


Quick Slow Slow

by rl4sb4eva



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: F/M, Multiple Orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rl4sb4eva/pseuds/rl4sb4eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex has already convinced him he won't hurt her, now she wants to test it further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quick Slow Slow

He's had enough so he storms into the front room, where's she's lounging on the sofa in one of his shirts and nothing else, flicking through the channels with one hand and idly touching her neck with the other. Playing her fingers across the small red love bite he'd left the night before and smiling.

And then he starts shouting, trying to get across how fucking irritated he is and she looks up after a minute or two and just smiles.

And she stands up, dropping the remote just as the theme tune for Antiques Roadshow starts from the tv, still smiling even as he gets redder in the face.

Silently furious now, and also really bloody confused. And he can't take his eyes off her fingers at her neck. And he keeps losing his train of thought, because yes he may be post-fang as Alex loves to call it, but the removal of the urge for blood hasn't removed the memory of feeling flesh break under his teeth, and he can feel his cock twitch in his trousers, not hard, at least not fully just yet, but interested, certainly.

Alex is still fucking smirking though, stepping around the sofa and he can just see the v between her legs below the hem of the shirt. And she's not wearing underwear, and it makes him twitch as well as bringing up that little voice that says 'she must be cold' and 'well that's entirely improper attire for a young lady'.

'That's um, entirely improper clothing for the cold and Alex?'

She meets his eyes and moves closer, biting her bottom lip softly and dropping a hip as she stops about a foot away. 'What's up, stud?'

He blinks and... and she lasts about three seconds before breaking, head falling onto his chest as she starts laughing loudly. "I'm sorry, I just... 'stud' what the fuck was I thinking?'

He's dumbfounded, and can feel the vibrations from her laughter as her hand drops from her neck and brushes against the bulge in his trousers and he twitches away, hissing a breath out.

'Alex, we were having an argument, and were you trying to seduce me, completely unrequired I must remind you, and why are you laughing?' He's angry again, angry and aroused and really fucking confused.

And she has tears in her eyes as she stands up and looks at him, hand idly playing with the hem of her shirt, his shirt.

'That's my shirt.' He says, cursing inwardly as he sounds like an idiot, and reaching out a hand to stop her playing with, probably ruining the hem, when she steps to the side and his hand brushes coarse curls, fingers twitching at the sudden rush of heat he feels in the air.

She's still smiling, freer than before, laughter still creasing her eyes every now and again but she freezes at the touch.

'I moved the plates around, and messed the cutlery up, and oh wait til you go into the bathroom.' Her words tumble over each other, syllables blending into each other as she spills her 'crimes' before him.

Taking a step forward puts his hand in deeper contact with those curls, fingers curling over swollen pink flesh and pressing slightly.

She takes a step back, or at least tries, the movement aborted, when his free hand grabs the fabric of the shirt and bunches it in a fist at her hip, taking another step forward.

'Um...' He watches her tongue flash out to wet her lips, the faint light through the blinds making the wet shimmer as she takes her bottom lip back between her lips.

'Did I ever tell you what I used to do to girls who teased me?' He presses forward as he pulls her flush against him with the hand in the shirt, fingers sliding between her legs and finding her burning hot and slick under the tips.

'No' she clears her throat, 'no, you didn't. Haven't. Fuck.' Her hips twitch pressing her down and against him at the same time, and he uses a time-roughened finger against her clit to push her back as he steps forward, angling them so her back hits the wall, fist at her hip twisting and dragging the fabric tighter across her hips and chest, and he doesn't miss the slight gasp she makes as she can't go back anymore and presses forward again, one hand pressing palm flat against the wallpaper, the other fluttering at his waist.

'So, I never told you that? Hmm, I mean I doubt you'd want to know, it's not that interesting really.' He gives her two, three, four slow flicks across her clit, hard and grinding against her, and feels her knees go slightly before she catches herself, hand settling on his belt and trying to undo the buckle with shaking fingers.

He flicks her hand away with damp fingers and grabs her hand and presses it against the wall, before stepping the last few inches needed to press his denim clad leg between her bare ones and push them apart.

He can feel her heat even through the fabric and slips his hand back into wet folds, sliding two fingers back and teasing around the edge of her cunt, 'see, I really hate being teased, and village girls in back street bars were the worst in my day' he moves his mouth closer to hers, flicking out his tongue to wet her lips 'they would flirt, and dance, twisting in the smoke of a hundred pipes and cigars, and stinking of cheap booze and the smell of young vibrant blood, red dresses and white lace.'

He's talking quietly, but she hears every word, whimpering as his fingers continue to play around her slit, and he catches the exhalation of air when he thrusts them in finally, hard, one hand leaving the wall to wrap around his wrist and try to get him impossibly deeper.

He slides his fingers out of her slowly, ignoring the soft 'no,' and 'please' she gives as he takes her hand by the wrist and presses it against the wall again, holding it firmly until she nods, and bites her lip again, fingers scratching the wall softly.

He lets go of the fabric balled at her hips and slides his now free hand under the soft, worn, cotton, brushing his fingertips against her stomach and smiling as the muscles jump under the skin and she sucks in a breath. 

Sliding his fingers back down between her legs her starts teasing her again, thumb rubbing small soft circles over her clit and rubbing the side of it gently, two more fingers playing around the edge of her cunt again before slowly sliding one digit inside.

His mouth moves to press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth and up so he's whispering into her ear, body caging her against the wall and fingers stroking her stomach, hand slowly inching up under the shirt.

'They would laugh and point, and whisper about us, flashing smiles as they twirled to music. They'd come closer and act coy, hearts beating wildly and knickers sodden under their petticoats. Holding out a hand as they flushed at a smile, and asked for a dance.' He slides a second finger inside, slowly thrusting them as she spasms around him, every other breath a whimper, and she's close.

This is when he misses his senses, he knows she’s close, can feel it in the way she clenches, and the way her hands are lifting from the wall and then fluttering back down, but he can't smell it as strongly as he used to be able, can't exactly judge when he would need to pull back to deny it.

He rubs his thumb harder, fast, rough strokes that push her over, clenching and swearing, her hand comes up and buries itself in his hair to pull his mouth to her for a kiss. More a clash of lips and teeth as she pants against him and he presses closer, feels her twitch and spasm against his cock through the denim, thumb still rubbing hard circles. Fingers pressed hard inside as she whimpers into his mouth, and comes again, harder. Knees going and sliding slightly down the wall.

He stills his thumb but keeps his fingers where they are until her walls stop fluttering and she can stand better.

He slides the hand out of her top and reaches behind his head to interlace his fingers with the hand on his neck, using the grip to guide her lax hand back to the wall and press it there again.

He crooks his fingers, and smiles as she cries out, sensitive and near dripping as he slides them out slowly, flicking them over her swollen clit and making her jump against him.

He lifts his hand to his mouth and holds her gaze as his tongue darts out and licks between his fingers and over each pad. Slowly cleaning her from his fingers.

The hand under her shirt starts moving upwards again and he feels the soft swell of the underside of her breast and stroking the warm smooth skin softly with his finger tips before following the swell up to a hard peaked nipple and flicking it gently with his nail before running the tip gently around the puckered skin surrounding it and feeling Alex twitch under him.

He lowers his now clean fingers and starts gently combing through her pubic hair, slowly working back down and swiping over her clit again.

'You'd take their hand to dance and they'd be pressed against you, breasts shoved up by boning and just there, white and pale as they tried to twirl you, they were beautiful.' He starts to hum as he moves his mouth back to her ear, a waltz from years ago, finger circling her clit in time, quick, slow, slow.

Quick.

Slow.

Slow.

And the hand on her chest switches to the other breast, pinching on the quick and circling on the slow.

'Please, Hal, please.' She's wide eyed, glazed and sweat soaked, and he knows he's being cruel, but he can't seem to stop.

Keeping up the rhythm he licks up the side of her neck slowly, blowing over the skin and feeling her shiver against him, goosebumps breaking out on her arms as her nails scratch at the wallpaper.

'Alex... You still with me? You remember, I was dancing with the village girls, their hearts beating faster and faster, blood singing just under their skins, and they'd smile and ask if you wanted to go somewhere quieter, just the two of you.' 

She has tears on her lashes as he slides two fingers in slowly, keeping the same rhythm, switching between her breasts at random, thumb harder on the quick and softer on the slow now, and she's speaking a never ending string of near silent 'please's and 'Hal's.

'Ssh, it's ok, it's ok. You're doing so well, being so good.' He gives her two hard thrusts before resuming his waltz, scratching blunt teeth over the salt sweet skin where her neck meets her shoulder and stroking the point of his tongue over the scratch to soothe the sting.

'Their mouths would taste like dates and sugar and wine, and they'd giggle as they pulled you behind the stage, the cacophony of the bar dying down behind the swinging door as they dragged you towards damp, splintered wood walled rooms, skirts gathered in their hands and the air so thick with the smell of sex it was intoxicating.' He pulls back slightly to look at her, lips bitten red, eyes glazed, pupils blown and hair mussed.

And he feels as she comes again, mouth open on a gasp as she arches off the wall, come starting to trickle down his hand and tickle the inside of his wrist as she slumps back against it, hands still pressed against the wall and he just knows she can't take much more. So far gone she seems to have forgotten she's not really held in place, that she's holding herself there and he smiles fondly as he leans back in and nips gently at her ear.

'Alex, stay with me, come on.' He flicks his thumb right over her clit, and it has to be skirting the line between pleasure and pain, sensitive and swollen, and he feels more than hears the whimper. Her hips twitching.

'They'd pull you into barely lit rooms, stinking of whoever they'd dragged in before, and do you know what I'd do? Alex? Can you guess?' Her head falls forward and rests on his shoulder, tears soaking into his t-shirt as she comes again, she's shivering slightly, hands still pressed to the wall and lips pressed to his shoulder.

'Alex? Come on, stay here, we're nearly over, I just need to finish this story, you'll like it I promise. Can you guess? Shall I tell you? Tell you how I'd press them against the wall, the lace on their dresses catching on my buttons, and their breasts heaving as I lifted their skirts so I could slip a hand in their cunts. They'd be wet, so very fucking wet and wanting and open.' He can feel her twitch every time he swears, and he slides his hand from her breasts to her hips, holding her up against the wall. 

He's whispering into her ear again, hurried and slowing his strokes down even further as she keeps trembling.

'And I'd rip their clothes so I could get closer to their throats, pressing my fangs against their skin, hiding my eyes in the crooks of their neck.' He leans forward slightly to push her back against the wall, sliding his mouth down to her neck, breathing over fevered skin and sliding his fingers out of her until just the tips are inside.

'Alex, you know what would happen next? I'd pull myself out and line up, feeling them wet and hot above me, and holding still for a few seconds.' eHe's slower now against her clit, still keeping his waltz rhythm and his fingertips are gently circling the edge, as his tongue laps at the sweat on her throat.

He thrusts his fingers forward as he bites down, teeth too blunt to draw blood, but it has the same effect, Alex so wound up and so far gone she uses the last of her energy to scream and come in his arms, hips snapping forward to press against the bulge of his jeans and down onto his fingers, as her hand finally moves, arm wrapping around his shoulders and digging nails into the back of his neck to hold him in place.

He keeps up a hard rhythm of thrusts, thumb abandoning it's rhythm to press hard and rough on her, and she's dripping enough that he can feel her wetness through his jeans.

She slumps against him, still, but breathing and he slides his hand out, wiping it roughly on his jeans as he steps back and scoops her up, carrying her up the stairs quickly and laying her on the bed, before moving to the bathroom to grab a damp cloth and wash his hands.

When he comes back she's lying on her side on the bed, eyes half-lidded and tongue on her lips. 

She smiles at him, hand reaching out but flopping back to the bed.

'I think I'm a ghost again, I think you broke me.'

'No, just a little bit bent that's all.' He smiles, wiping the cloth over sticky thighs and dropping it onto a plastic bag on the floor. 'But we need to talk about you moving the cutlery.'


End file.
